Proposing an Argument
by BlatantBookworm
Summary: England and France will fight about absolutely anything. Established FrUK.


_**Proposing an Argument**_

**I feel like I should open this by quoting Mushu from **_**Mulan,**_** with his shout of "I LIVE!" It does feel like it's been an awfully long time since I've updated anything on .**

**But, despite going through several fandom changes during my absence, I've still been writing. I posted a couple of things on various sites, but I've still be reading every single review I get on FF.N. And every single one makes me smile. Thank you so much everyone for them.**

**And so I thought that it was probably about time I posted a couple of my favourite stories I've written since then here.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and am making no profit off this.**

"Morning Frog." England walked into France's office.

"_Bonjour Angleterre_." France glanced up from his paperwork, surprised but pleased. "What are you doing here?"

The younger nation shrugged, shutting the door behind him. "I wanted to ask you a question." England said casually, slipping the key he used to enter the house into his coat pocket.

The keys to each other's houses had been England's idea, although the original suggestion of moving in together had been France's. However, while it was _possible_ for a personification to live in another nation's country, neither of the two were willing to consider the level of submission it entailed. The compromise of being able to enter either house at will had seemed ideal.

"Feel free to ask eet, zhen." France turned back to the paperwork he was filling out.

"Alright. Will you marry me?"

France's head snapped up instantly.

England wasn't kneeling, as he'd half expected. Instead, the British nation was leaning against the side of the table.

But he was also holding a jewellery box open. A ring was gleaming in it.

"_Qu…quoi?" _W-what? The older nation stuttered, looking up.

"Will you marry me?" England repeated, placing the box on the desk and sliding it towards him.

France's eyes widened as he struggled to regain the ability of speech. "_N-n-__**non!**_" He jumped to his feet, pushing the chair out behind him. "_Non, non, non, non! _Zhat is not fair, _Angleterre_!"

"No?" England repeated quietly, struggling not to let any emotions show on his face. "O…okay then. It was just-"

"You cannot propose to me!" France said, not paying attention as he paced. "I had a whole plan to propose to you! With roses and wine and your favourite tea and – and you can't just propose like _zhat_!"

"You were planning to propose to me?" England asked in disbelief.

"_Oui!_" France stamped his foot like a child. "And I was going to do it properly, with style and romance! _Zhis_ is not a proper proposal! Zhat was a question! Even zhough I am aware you are highly unromantic, surely you could have come up with somezhing better zhan zhat!"

For a moment the two nations stared at each other – England incredulous and a little amused, France almost angry.

Finally France pushed the jewellery box back towards the British nation. "Take eet back."

"Take it back?" England repeated.

"Oui. Remove your proposal."

England was silent for a moment. "…No."

"_No?_"

"No. I will not withdraw my proposal." England said flatly, folding his arms.

France glared at him. "_Angleterre_, take back your proposal so zhat I can do it _properly_." He said through gritted teeth.

"No." England repeated, frowning.

"Fine!" France snapped, walking around the desk.

He grabbed the younger nation by the upper arm, and began nearly dragging him out of the room.

England considered putting up a fight, but decided against it. Instead he caught the ring box as he was dragged out the door.

"Frog, where are we going?" England asked in annoyance, still not resisting.

France glared at him over his shoulder, muttering under his breath in rapid French. After a second the older nation released him, flinging open the cupboard he had dragged him to.

"What's going on?" England asked flatly, folding his arms. His fingers tapped the box still clutched in his hand.

France sent another glare at England, which England returned. The French nation pulled out several objects from the cupboard, including a long-stemmed rose and a ring box.

To England's mixed irritation and amusement, France shoved the rose into his hands and knelt on one knee.

"You are not serious."

"I _would_ have made you tea," France growled, "but you did not have ze decency to wait for me to be ready."

England snorted. "I've tasted that vile brew you had the audacity to claim was tea. I'll consider myself lucky to have missed it." He threw the rose aside dismissively.

"_You_ are insulting _my_ skills in ze kitchen?" France said incredulously, still on one knee.

"My cooking is perfectly fine, you git!" England snapped.

France glowered but dismissed it. Now was probably not the time to argue about what constituted as 'perfectly fine'. "Fine. I will buy you tea-_bags _or leaves or whatever you use zhat you can brew to your heart's content and I will cook a delicious dinner to celebrate after you accept my proposal."

"After _I_ accept _your_ proposal?" England repeated angrily. "Excuse me, but who proposed_first_?"

France's features lit up with triumph. "Aha! _Moi!_ I did!"

"…No, you _didn't_."

"Non, I did! Remember 1956? Ze Suez Canal? I proposed zhen!"

England glowered as he remembered the event in question. "That was most certainly not a proposal!"

"I asked you to marry me, non? How iz zhat not a proposal?"

"_Not a proposal?_" England repeated incredulously. "You physically attempted to force me to sign the contract!"

"And you broke my nose!"

"You tried to drag me off." England reminded the kneeling nation heatedly. "What did you_expect_ was going to happen?"

France looked a little sheepish. "I… I did not actually think it through." he admitted. "I was desperate. In hindsight, I'm surprised my beautiful nose was ze only thing you broke. But still," he said, turning back to the topic at hand, "I proposed."

"Fine, the Suez Canal was a proposal." England said irritably. "But I rejected that one, making it irrelevant to the topic at hand. And if _that_ is counted as a proposal, you have absolutely no argument against mine!"

"Zhat event was not intended to be romantic, but of necessity! _Zhis_ eez supposed to be romantic, and so has far higher standards!"

"How is what _you're_ doing any more romantic than what I did?" the British nation asked, glaring.

"Eet would be far more romantic had I a chance to do eet properly, but at least I put effort into zhis!"s

"You haven't even asked me yet!" England snapped.

"What do you mean, I have not asked you?" France demanded.

"You grabbed a ring and knelt. That does not constitute as a proper proposal!"

France hesitated, running the conversation back over in his mind. Then he shrugged. "_Angleterre,veux-tu m'épouser?_" England, will you marry me?

"Of course I will, but you have to accept my proposal first." England said flatly, opening his box and shoving it towards the Frenchman.

It took a second more of both nations glaring before it slowly began to dawn on them what England had said.

"_Angleterre…_" France said slowly.

"Yes, Frog?"

"As my legs are beginning to ache, I am going to stand up now."

"Please do."

France got to his feet, glancing at the ring in his hand. Similarly, England inspected the ring he had brought.

"Perhaps it might be best if we were to _both_ accept?" England asked hesitantly, glancing up.

"_Oui_." France nodded.

A moment of silence.

"Should we… swap rings, zhen?" France suggested.

England nodded once, sharply. "On three?"

"_Oui_."

"One… two… three."

Both took the ring from the other.

France was the first to pull out his new ring. Carefully, he slipped it onto his left hand.

"It fits perfectly." he murmured in surprise.

"So does mine." England said quietly, privately thinking that he'd be lucky if the ring didn't permanently cut off circulation to his finger before he figured out a way to make it bigger.

For a second the two nations looked at their rings, the implication beginning to sink in. They were engaged. They were going to be married.

Slowly, a mischievous look crossed France's face. "So, _Angleterre_… do you agree zhat ze ceremony should be in Paris, ze city of love?"

"Absolutely not." England said instantly.

"_Non?_ If you insist… zhere are many other French areas in which a wedding would be_charmant_."

"That is not going to happen." England folded his arms, the ring glinting on his finger. "I am sure we could, however, find a suitable place in London…"

"_Mais non!_" France said vehemently. "I will most certainly not be married in zhat unromantic city."

England raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then how about Cotswold? It is truly a beautiful place…" In actual fact, he wasn't being serious. Before proposing, he'd already thought about venues and thought that a boat in the middle of the channel might be an idea.

"_Non_!" France shook his head. Likewise, he had an idea on the location of the ceremony – two separate weddings might be worth considering.

But there was going to be far more arguing before any compromises were even suggested.

Both found themselves to be delighted with that state of affairs.

"However, zhere iz a particular place I know in my southern regions zhat would be most enjoyable… and I mean that in _all_ ze implications, ohnhonhon…"

"You are a pervert. I was rather thinking a Tower Bridge marriage…"

"Oh, haha, very funny joke _Angleterre,_ but we are both aware zhat ze Eiffel Tower is by far the most romantic landmark of any nation."

"I must disagree with you on that one. In my opinion, steel girders are far from romantic."

"Honestly, as we are engaged, I would hope zhat you would finally agree zhat my sense of style is _far_ better zhan yours."

"I am aware we are to be married, but why on Earth should that be a reason for me to start agreeing with you, Frog?"


End file.
